The White Rabbit Chronicles

by Gena Showalter

  “This way.” Cole took the lead, his steps shuffling, his gait slower by the minute.

  I made sure the light illuminated the way as we bypassed each of the doorways and entered the sanctuary. I muttered a prayer for strength and peace. Was Nana here? Were my friends? Or—

  Borrowing trouble.

  Right. We sailed through the sound room, a storage overflowing with choir robes, and finally entered the pastor’s office. Cole, who was wobbling on his feet, flipped on the overhead lamp, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. I blinked in an effort to adjust to the added brightness and saw a bookcase, desk, computer, file cabinet and a few chairs.

  “I’m missing something,” I said. “Where’s the shelter?”

  “Here.” He squatted and scooped out the things inside the bottom cubby of the bookcase. Reaching back, he lifted a hidden hatch, revealing a tunnel just big enough for an adult male to crawl through.

  “Down,” he said. “Hurry.” His lids closed...then snapped back open.

  How close was he to passing out?

  I practically flew through the hole—found a ladder. Darkness enveloped me as I descended. Like a real-life Alice in Wonderland, I thought with a nervous laugh. My palms began to sweat all over again, and I had to squash images of Cole losing his grip and tumbling to his death.

  Trickles of light filtered in. At the bottom, I hopped to the cement floor. With my help, Cole was able to do the same with minimal pain.

  “Anima will pay for this,” I vowed.

  “Yes, and they’ll...pay...in blood.”

  A lot of blood.

  We were in a small, dim box of a room, but voices rose beyond the far right wall. Voices I recognized.

  I bounded forward. “Nana!”

  “Ali?” she responded.

  Light brightened around the corner, and I quickened my pace, soon entering a spacious room loaded with gurneys, medical equipment and weapons. Nana, dressed in her favorite nightgown, headed straight for me. I gathered her in my arms and hugged her tight, doing my best not to snot-cry all over her.

  “Thank God! You’re alive.” She was the only family I had left, and I would rather die than lose her. “You’re really alive.”

  “I’m telling you, I had to be surrounded by angels tonight. There’s no other explanation for my survival.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you.”

  “I was glad you weren’t. I would have hated knowing you witnessed the violence we did. You’ve seen too much already.” A shudder rocked her small frame, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit I had witnessed more than my fair share tonight, too. “I took comfort knowing you were out there and safe.”

  Behind me, I caught the soft sound of shambling footsteps and pulled from Nana’s embrace. “I’ll be right back.” Cole had just passed the threshold, and I raced to his side.

  His features were pinched, his skin pallid. He managed a small smile when I reached him. At this point, I think he was running on pure adrenaline. “Told you...she’d be...all right.”

  “Gloat all you want.” Just live! I shoved the backpack from his shoulder, the heavy weight thumping against the floor. “Let’s get you to a gurney.”

  “Ali, you have to know...not afraid...to die.”

  Jolt! And not the good kind. “I know that.” A person afraid of dying could never really live, and Cole Holland definitely lived. “Why are you telling me this now? You made a promise to me and I expect you to keep it.”

  He leaned against me in an effort to remain on his feet.

  I wound my arm snug around his waist. “Mr. Ankh,” I called. “Help.”

  The male stalked around a curtain. He was shirtless and stacked with as much muscle as the slayers; it looked like he’d been in the process of sewing his own wound back together, because a needle and thread hung from a thick, seeping gash on his clavicle. His usually dark skin was almost as pallid as Cole’s and was now marked with cuts and bruises.

  He spotted us, quickened his pace. Together, we hefted Cole onto a gurney. Which was a big-time struggle. He passed out halfway up, becoming a dead weight. Mr. Ankh shouldered me out of the way to clean him up and patch the wound on his shoulder.

  Mr. Ankh is a surgeon, I reminded myself. He knows what to do.

  “He’s going to be okay, right?” I asked.

  A tic below Mr. Ankh’s eye. He remained silent.

  I pressed my lips together.

  Compartmentalize.

  Yes, but how much more could the compartments take?

  Nana came up beside me, squeezed my hand.

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “One of the tunnels in Mr. Ankh’s house leads straight here.”

  “Where are the others?” I scanned the room and answered my own question. Kat reclined on one of the gurneys, her dark hair tangled around her pale face, her expression...odd. Blank.

  I frowned. Something—more than the obvious—was wrong with her.

  Reeve sprawled on the gurney beside her, her hair just as tangled. Her eyes were closed, and she was so still she could only be...

  No! “Tell me she’s okay.”

  “She is. She had to be sedated.” Nana released a shuddering breath. “So did Kat.”

  Okay. Okay. I could guess the reason. Reeve had probably tried to leave to find Bronx, and Kat had probably screamed bloody murder, desperate to get to Frosty.

  “I have something to tell you, dear,” Nana said, sorrow practically dripping from her.

  I stiffened. “No.” I could guess what was coming.

  “You need to know. Two of the...” She sniffled. “Two slayers were...are...”

  “No,” I repeated.

  “Lucas and Trina. Beautiful Trina. They...”

  I shook my head violently. Don’t want to hear this.

  “Lucas called. Trina was with him. They were being chased. Ankh told them where to go. Then he and I... We left the girls here, sleeping in a safe room, and went to get the others.”

  I focused on that—that Mr. Ankh had taken my grandmother from safety and placed her in danger—and not the words to come. Not... Don’t say it. Please, don’t say it.

  “He suspected he would need my help. That he’d have to tend to their wounds while I drove. I wish he’d been right. It would have been—” She cleared her throat. “We arrived first. The two came running around the corner.”

  She was. She was going to say it. “Nana, stop. Just don’t.” If she didn’t say it, and I didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be real.

  More sniffles, before she added, “Ankh tried. He tried so hard to kill their pursuers. And he did. But not before both kids were gunned down. They never made it to the car. I’m so sorry, dear. So very sorry.”

  Not prepared.

  Lucas and Trina. Dead.

  Dead!

  Two friends. Gone. Because Anima had decided to stop watching us, stop threatening us, and act. Because we’d become so caught up in our own little world, we hadn’t realized someone was about to unleash a maelstrom of pain.

  I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

  Just like that, the compartments burst at the seams and every emotion I’d managed to stave off came rising to the surface. Regret, worry and guilt, now mixed with grief, anguish and fury, created a tidal wave and flooded me.

  Drowning...

  I fell to my knees and sobbed.

  Chapter 4

  BRAINS ARE OVERRATED

  (AND SALTY)

  I had the strangest dream. A little girl, probably three, maybe four, was strapped to a chair, a plain but elegant woman sitting at her side, holding her hand. The woman had such a slender bone structure she looked like some kind of fairy princess from a storybook. She had wavy, shoulder-length hair
the color of wheat and eyes so pale they were freaky.

  I’d seen those eyes before. Many times before.

  Like, every time I’d looked in a mirror.

  They were rare. And yet, the little girl had those eyes, too.

  Were they mother and daughter? Relatives I’d never met?

  It was possible, I supposed. But why was I dreaming about them?

  And why was I assuming this was real, just because it felt that way? Dreams were just that. Dreams. They weren’t fact.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said with a quaver. “Once they finish, I’ll take you home and make your favorite cookies.”

  “I want to go home now. I don’t care about cookies.”

  “I know you want to go, sweetie, I know. But you can’t. Not yet. This is necessary.”

  “Why?” Tears fell in earnest. “They hurt me, Momma.”

  The mother began to cry, as well. “You’re such a special little girl. You can do things no one else can. Through you, they can help other people. Save other people.”

  They? Who were they?

  “—not leaving her.” Nana’s voice registered, as did her concern.

  The dream vanished in a puff of smoke.

  I tried to open my eyes, didn’t have the strength. Lethargy made my skull feel as if it had been hollowed out and stuffed with boulders.

  “You are.”

  Mr. Holland’s voice now. He said something else, but a high-pitched ring invaded my ears, distorting the rest of the conversation. “—bry mand take see.”

  “Moo bought I cast soon loo.”

  I bit the side of my tongue, tasted the copper tang of blood. The ensuing pain must have set off a chemical reaction, releasing all kinds of goodies, because I received the boost I needed. The ringing faded, and tendrils of strength wound through me.

  “—at war right now, and that makes you a target. Ali won’t be the fighter I know she can be, needs to be, if she’s worried about you.” Mr. Holland possessed the same iron-hard determination as his son, making the words sound as though they’d been chiseled from ice. “You’re going and that’s final.”

  I cracked open my eyelids, then blinked rapidly to clear the blur. Meanwhile, memories banged at the door of my mind, demanding entrance. Before I could decide whether to accept or decline, the door splintered and I was bombarded. Cole, shot. Gavin, missing. Kat and Reeve, sedated. Trina and Lucas—

  No.

  No!

  But there was no erasing the knowledge. They were dead. Shot and killed. Gone forever.

  My mind shied away from the devastation. I couldn’t allow myself to grieve. Not now. Later, though...

  Yes, later.

  Right now, it was time to start compartmentalizing again. Nine of my friends were out there, targets to the madmen running Anima, and they had to be found.

  Moaning, I sat up. Dizziness struck, as if it had been waiting for me.

  Another memory took root. I’d broken down and cried. Mr. Ankh had approached my side and, while cooing comforting words at me, withdrew a syringe from his pocket and injected me with something. A sedative, I thought now, my jaw clenching with irritation.

  “Easy, dear.” The sweet scent of Nana’s perfume teased me as a gentle arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me upright.

  My hands quaked as I rubbed my gritty eyes. The dizziness faded, the room and the people in it coming into perfect view. Nana, with her black bob brushed and gleaming, her nightgown replaced by an oversize T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Mr. Holland, standing beside her, his face cleaned and bandaged.

  Beyond them, Kat and Reeve paced inside a small room surrounded by glass. Probably two-way mirrors. I met Kat’s gaze, but she looked away, as if she had no idea I was there.

  “Are they confined?” I asked, and a second later Reeve beat at one of the walls.

  “Yes. Frosty and Bronx have yet to be found, and the girls are determined to hunt them,” Mr. Holland said. “They tried to sneak out.”

  Of course they did. “Release them,” I commanded. “Now. Kat’s not even a target. We can send her home.” Where she’d stay safe.

  He gave a single shake of his head. “She is Frosty’s biggest weakness and one of yours. Of course she’s a target. And we both know she won’t go home. She’ll go after her boyfriend, no matter what we tell her. Reeve, too. And while both girls have had some training in self-defense, they aren’t ready for an all-out war, which is exactly what they’ll get. They stay.”

  Stay, yes, I conceded. Locked away? No. But we’d come back to that. “Where’s Cole?”

  Nana squeezed me tight. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s doing well. Better than any of us expected. Ankh hauled him to the house to feed him.”

  Relief was, oh, so sweet. “So it’s safe to go back?”

  “Safer by the minute,” Mr. Holland said with a nod. “When Ankh isn’t playing doctor, he’s working on the security. As soon as he’s satisfied there are no other hidden vulnerabilities, we’ll be able to go in and out the front door. Until then, we are to sneak through the tunnel.”

  “What about the other slayers?”

  The vim and vigor seeped out of him, and his shoulders slumped. He looked away from me, no longer able to hold my gaze. “We don’t know where they are.”

  But he knew something. He just didn’t want to tell me what it was. Hands beginning to sweat, I said, “Text them. Tell them to come here and—”

  “I want to,” he interjected with a shake of his head, “but I won’t. Anima could have their phones.”

  He was right. Dang it!

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Every news station has been running a story about last night’s eruption of ‘gang violence.’ They claim Cole is the leader of one gang, and his rival, a street thug named River Marks, decided to get rid of him and his crew.”

  “Wait. How did they know Cole was any kind of leader?” And did the police know I’d shot and killed someone in his home?

  I sucked in a fiery breath. Oh, glory, I’d shot and killed someone.

  Compartmentalize.

  “No.” Mr. Holland’s features softened as he computed the direction my thoughts had taken. “I snuck back to the house this morning. Someone had come by and cleared away the, uh, collateral damage. The cops saw that the house was broken into, and Cole’s blood was on the wall, but nothing more.”

  Anima had gone back, then.

  “For now,” he added, “we lay low. We let Anima wonder who survived.”

  And who didn’t, I finished for him, taking a few seconds to breathe. The problem with such a plan was that we had to wonder, too.

  “Again,” I said, “I’m unsure how the police connected the dots to Cole. They should have just assumed he was a victim.”

  Mr. Holland worked his jaw. “Apparently, a mysterious source called in the information.”

  Mysterious. In other words, Anima.

  Nana rested her head on my shoulder. “Tell her the rest, Tyler. Better it come from you than someone else.”

  My heart dropped. “What is it?”

  He closed his eyes, but not before I caught a flash of grief. “Cruz is... He’s dead, too. He was found in his bed, a bullet in his brain.”

  No. No, no, no. Another friend lost. A beautiful life ended far too soon.

  Compartmentalize!

  “I’m going after the others,” I announced. They were out there. They were alive.

  They had to be alive.

  I was going to find them and bring them back.

  Mr. Holland didn’t hesitate. He nodded, surprising me.

  “I’m taking Kat and Reeve with me,” I added. They weren’t ready for war, no, but I couldn’t drive and search and defend myself and patch inj
ured slayers.

  Even superheroes needed sidekicks.

  “God save me,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “After what happened with Ethan, Ankh will never allow you to put Reeve in Anima’s path.”

  Ethan. My hands curled into fists. Reeve had dated Ethan before she’d started dating Bronx. He’d secretly worked for Anima, gleaning her secrets, our secrets, and ultimately leading to her kidnapping and my torture.

  “I hate to break it to you,” I announced, “but what you said about Kat is true of Reeve, as well. She’s already in their path. Whether she’s with me or not, she’s in danger.”

  He flashed a quick smile. “Save the arguments for Ankh.”

  Mr. Ankh, the world’s most stubborn male. And that was saying something, considering Cole was in the running. “I will.” Now, to circle back to the start of our conversation. “Free the girls. I’ll take them to the house, and the three of us will do whatever’s necessary to get through to boss-man.”

  “Free them yourself.” He pulled a chain from around his neck, a key dangling at the end, and tossed it at me. “I just came from the house, and I’m not going back.” His gaze swung to Nana. “I’m taking your grandmother out of state. For her protection,” he added with more volume.

  Ah. Their earlier fight suddenly made sense.

  Nana morphed from calm to practically spewing fire in the snap of fingers. “I told you before, but I’ll tell you again, because you are obviously hard of hearing. I’m not going anywhere. Did you understand that time? Anywhere.”

  We’d see about that, too.

  I cupped her cheeks, and stared into dark eyes so like my mother’s and little sister’s—eyes that both broke me and made me stronger. “You must,” I said gently. “For me.”

  Astonishment wafted from her. She shook her head, uttering one succinct word. “No.”

  “These people are ruthless, Nana. They kidnapped me, tortured me, and when they finished with me, they would have killed me in the most painful way possible. Yesterday, they did kill three of my friends.” Hot tears suddenly streaked down my cheeks. “They must be destroyed.”